


How long will you remember me?

by TheWeirdDane



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Blood and Gore, Bloodplay, Body Horror, Cunnilingus, DiMA's voice is the best thing since sliced bread, Erotic Electrostimulation, F/M, Fluff, Knifeplay, Light Bondage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Robot Sex, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Voice Kink, a bit in the very end, because lets face it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 16:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7369318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWeirdDane/pseuds/TheWeirdDane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DiMA isn't entirely pleased about you shifting through his memory banks, and he sure isn't too shy to show it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How long will you remember me?

”Tsk tsk tsk. You’ve been a really naughty girl, haven’t you?”

DiMA’s voice was low and soft like velvet but with an edge sharper than broken glass.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nora protested and shrugged as well as she could from her, err, less than flexible position. The stretcher wasn’t exactly comfortable, but at least he hadn’t tied her to the ceiling or something just as bizarre.

“Oh I’m sure you haven’t,” he agreed, and there was a clatter to her right as the synth rummaged through a cabinet, “but I also wonder, if you didn’t do it, why did the terminal take this picture?”

The blindfold was tugged down enough to let Nora see a picture of herself, face contorted in concentration and fingers spread out on a keyboard. There was no denying it was her hacking the terminal from which she had retrieved DiMA’s memories.

“Faulty machinery.” She shrugged again and met DiMA’s hard and vaguely intimidating eyes. “That shit happens all the time.”

“Does it now? Funny, because this terminal was set up to photograph anyone working it. And something tells me,” he leaned closer, bracing an arm on either side of Nora’s head and leaned in to almost touch their faces together, “that you weren’t simply gathering inspiration for your own memory bank.”

“This, specifically.” He rested on one hand as the other pressed a button on his chest plate upon which a holotape started playing.

Nora’s heart picked up its already impressive pace, and she couldn’t take her eyes off DiMA’s.

It was a holotape containing DiMA guiding someone through the process of retrieving his memories, and under his voice she could hear herself curse and snarl at something. Built-in recording device. Of course. She could never keep her big mouth shut! She should know better by now.

As the tape kept playing, DiMA’s eyes widened and a sickening grin twisted the corners of his lips upwards, his eyes glistening triumphantly.

“You were snooping around in my memories, sweetheart. Do you know how rude that is?”

Nora swallowed heavily. That voice… it should be illegal to have a voice that made every threat sound like a promise of eternal pleasure.

“I guess you’re looking for the word ‘very’,” she said, aiming to sound as casual as if they were just talking about the weather, but the faint trembling of her voice revealed her. Then came the heat and color rising into her cheeks, and she knew she was busted.

For a moment, DiMA looked surprised. Then it turned to sick amusement, and he stopped the holotape before casually moving away to rummage through the cabinet again.

“You know,” he began and raised his voice to be heard over the clattering, “I didn’t think I would have to resort to this so early. I already replaced one human with a synth. I didn’t think there would ever be another; it’s not really a nice thing.”

But all that Nora heard was his deep, soft voice, and all she saw was his lips moving. She had no mind for the threats he was speaking. In fact, she only wished he would show her just what he was talking about. Wished that he would show her just what he was capable of.

“Fucking don’t keep me waiting,” she muttered under her breath and turned her head to get a better view of DiMA. Once more, his face was full of shock, but he quickly put his face back in gentle and warm folds.

“Now now, my dear. Patience.”

Nora groaned lowly and knocked her head back against the stretcher. She hated how easy she was, and the things that got her going. Here she was, at the end of one of the first prototypes of synths who was capable of independent thinking of judgement. He could do literally anything, and he chose to be threatening and dangerous. And this, of all things, made her legs turn to jelly and her heart to pound almost painfully against her ribs.

Not to mention his voice. It was like liquid sex, and if she was to never hear anything else than him reading a dictionary out aloud, she wouldn’t mind one bit.

“What do you do to bad girls like me?” she asked, hoping her voice sounded more sultry than she thought, and turned her head once more. DiMA had frozen up, both hands in the top drawer of the cabinet. Some of his exposed wires sparked, and for a fraction of a second, Nora thought she heard his processors whirring.

Then he slammed the drawer shut and faced her with a wide smile and knife in hand.

“Normally,” he drawled, “people reckon when they’ve done bad. But they usually don’t do bad, in the first place. I guess that’s the first point you differ from them. The other, of course,” he moved to the stretcher and got on top of it, straddling Nora’s waist and twirling the knife almost carelessly in his hand, “is that you want me to make a mess of you. Isn’t that right?”

The question was followed by the sharp side of the knife sliding along her cheek and jawline. Nora couldn’t hide a shiver and the small sound escaping her, and that told DiMA everything he needed to know.

“You naughty naughty girl.” The smugness in his voice was almost unbearable, but only almost. The only thing more unbearable was the warmth pooling in her lower stomach and how wet she could feel she was getting already. Excitement flooded her system and made her body tremble ever so lightly.

“You must be so desperate,” he continued, drawing out the words enough that he almost purred, and trailed the knife down the front of her throat and to her chest, running the sharp edge along her collarbones, watching with bated breath as Nora squirmed beneath him.

He merely laughed. A low, rumbling sound deep in his chest.

“So desperate indeed. Oh, how I would love to have you like this forever. I would have so much fun with you. But, for now,” he raised the knife and slammed it down mere inches from Nora’s face before pulling her clothes away, “I’m going to punish you for being so naughty. Though I guess you’re just going to love it.”

“Then where’s the punishment?” Nora hissed and shot him a challenging look.

“That’s for later. Don’t worry, I’m not the type of evil to start the torture right away.”

And while the words were menacing, his voice was soft and caressing as velvet. His hand was firm as it rested on her shoulder while the other ran the edge of the knife along her stomach, cutting in faint lines that just barely drew blood.

Nora hissed and winced at the pain, trying her hardest to hide her arousal, but the rumbling laughter from above told her she was failing spectacularly.

A few minutes passed like that where DiMA simply left vaguely bloody lines and caressed her shoulder with his other hand.

Then, just when Nora had started getting used to it and calmed down a bit, DiMA changed the grip of the knife so it rested better in his hand, and proceeded to draw a long line from just below to her chin and all the way down to her navel. It was done slowly and with the blade pressed hard enough against her skin to provoke a sharp whimper and causing glistening rubies to run down both sides of her body.

“Save your pretty voice for later, we’re only just getting started.”

DiMA copied the cut once, twice, three more times and pulled back a bit to admire his handiwork. Nora was trembling lightly and whimpering from pain as well as pleasure and adrenaline pumping through veins while blood ran down either side of her body, staining the already ruined stretcher on which she lay.

“Let’s see the results so far.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement.

“God, fuck, don’t-“ Nora whimpered, her voice trembling, but the way her neck craned and her back arched when DiMA reached between her legs dissolved any and all doubts there might have been that she didn’t like what was going on.

“Don’t--- what?” the synth teased and rubbed his cold metal fingers against her almost dripping pussy, unable to hide a small moan himself. His fingertips caressed her folds slowly and lightly, only barely touching, and Nora shuddered, hands clenching into fists by her sides.

“Don’t fucking stop,” she snarled and slumped back against the stretcher, breathing heavily and biting her lower lip.

DiMA chuckled lowly and traced her entrance with two fingers, smothering them in her fluids, and dipped the tips lightly inside, eyes fixed on her face as if to check if it hurt. But all her face revealed was pleasure, and he pressed them deeper inside her, somewhat careful not to rub them too hard against her walls. It was important to remember that his fingers weren’t completely covered like most other synths’ were, and while he had promised her pain and torture, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

He wiggled his fingers lightly, pressing them up against the front of her vagina and rubbing slowly but firmer, and Nora nearly moaned his name.

Nearly.

No way he was going to get that satisfaction so soon.

“Come on,” he chuckled and kept rubbing while his other hand reached for the knife to press it against the front of her throat. Nora immediately moaned and jerked as much as the bonds allowed her, and her cheeks flushed a bright red.

“O-oh fuck, that---“

Her words died on her tongue as DiMA dropped the knife again, letting it clatter unto the floor, and delved between her thighs to gather her fluids on his tongue.

This caused Nora to inhale sharply and let it out in a broken, hoarse moan, and she instinctively tried to reach for DiMA’s head, only to be met with the harsh bite of the leather straps holding her down.

“D-DiMA,” she managed and swallowed heavily, whimpering in the back of her throat as the synth let his firm, warm tongue lap her clit while his fingers started thrusting in and out of her at a somewhat hard pace.

He moaned lowly and leaned his face closer, running his tongue in slow circles around her clit and causing her to quiver and whimper in the most beautiful of ways. And by god, if his tongue wasn’t absolutely perfect! It was amazing how real it felt, especially for such an old prototype, and her fluids more than made up for the lack of saliva.

“Losing your words already?” he teased and chuckled lowly, the vibrations sending intense pleasure through her body, and she could only moan in response as her fingers curled and uncurled, desperate for anything to hold onto.

The synth was relentless and flicked his tongue over her clit every now and then, interrupting the impossibly sweet sensation of the muscle sliding around on the sensitive bud. His fingers started thrusting harder and faster, nearly causing tears to well up into Nora’s eyes, but it was out of sheer pleasure.

“D-DiMA, please,” she gasped when she felt her climax approach at an alarming rate. Her body grew tense and tight as a drawn string, and it was almost painful how close she was.

But DiMA showed kindness and sucked at Nora’s clit while fucking her with his ruined fingers, and he grinned widely when she came undone with a high-pitched, shaky moan and her legs quivered in their binds.

And then, just like that, it was over. Nora slumped back against the stretcher, panting and trembling all over, eyes closed and hands uncurled by her sides.

DiMA pulled back and grabbed an article of clothing from the pile on the floor to wipe his face and fingers clean before dropping it again.

“Now then. Let’s have some real fun.”

Too exhausted and blissfully unaware of her surroundings, Nora didn’t realize that the synth had moved away to take hold of the knife in one hand and a bunch of sparkling wires in the other.

“Don’t move. Not that it’s an option, of course,” he added with mock thoughtfulness and casually twirled the knife before dragging it along Nora’s lower abdomen, only just enough to puncture the skin. Nora hissed and instinctively tried to wiggle in her bonds, but with no success.

“What did I just tell you?”

The punishment was the blade being dug a bit deeper into her stomach, allowing crimson red pearls to trickle down her sides and causing her to whimper faintly. But she stayed still.

“Good girl.”

Nora didn’t want to admit it, but the vaguely threatening tone made her heart skip a beat, and her eyes were fixated on the synth as he moved up on the side of her and kept the knife in the wound, even twisting it a little. Nora winced but stayed silent save for a sharp gasp, simply keeping eye contact with DiMA.

Then DiMA put away the knife and started shifting through the many wires, his processors whirring softly.

 “Have you ever been electrocuted before, sweetheart?”

“What?” she exclaimed and almost violently turned her head to look at the synth. “Oh god, don’t tell me---“

But the look DiMA gave her told everything.

Nora immediately started thrashing on the stretcher, trying to get away. The synth merely laughed and put a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to stay still.

“If you move too much, who knows what I might end up electrocuting?”

It wasn’t comforting, at all, but at least it got Nora to freeze up and made DiMA’s hand on her shoulder unnecessary.

They looked at each other for a few moments before DiMA put one of the sparkling cables against her upper arm.

She was prepared for unbearable amounts of electricity to surge through her, but it wasn’t much more than a strong tickle that made her gasp and wince lightly.

But by her side, DiMA’s processors whirred a tad louder, and suddenly he had no snarky comments.

And while it shouldn’t be a surprise, Nora now realized that he must have an electricity kink. Of course. Being a synth and all. He was made up of wires and cords and cables, and it all used electricity. Of course it was something that would turn him on.

It lasted nothing more than a few seconds before the synth retreated, and with him the shock disappeared. Nora fell back against the stretcher, breathing heavily and eyes slightly hooded. There was a faint, tingling feeling in her skin, but otherwise no trace of what had just happened.

“So, you take kindly to electricity. That is good.”

And with those words, the wires were pressed more insistently against her skin, and Nora heard a very vague cracking sound, not unlike when she was picking locks, and electricity once more had her body shaking.

Only this time, it was much more violent.

The current was much, much stronger, and loud screaming was involuntarily ripped from her throat, her hands once more clenched into fists and her body thrashing about in its bonds.

Over all of this noise, Nora couldn’t hear DiMA’s moaning, but she didn’t need to. When he turned off the power, it was evident in his eyes how much he enjoyed seeing her writhe in pain.

“Y-you sick fuck,” she panted, her voice shaking and a spinning sensation gripping her entire body, “you’re fucking sick!”

“Perhaps. But at least it seems I have found someone with whom to share the madness,” DiMA retaliated, and his lips stretched into a wide, menacing grin.

He didn’t utter another word as he picked up the knife, and this time, when he straddled Nora, he didn’t settle for gentle, quick cuts.

The sharp blade dug into her hip, and he drew a long, deep line across her stomach. Liquid rubies fell from her pearly skin while a wail left her lips and her entire body tensed up once more, and she thrashed on the stretcher.

By the time he reached her other hip, DiMA’s eyes were glowing brighter than Nora had ever seen them before and were transfixed on the blood trailing down her sides.

“Stay still, sweetheart,” he rasped and lifted the knife, admiring his work, before plunging the knife into her side, well away from any vital organs.

Nora screamed. The knife sunk deep into her body, tearing through muscles and tendons. She tried to tear herself free, but it was no use. Tears started streaming down her cheeks, and a sob wrecked through her when DiMA twisted the knife cruelly, forcing out more blood and more screams.

“Keep singing,” he whispered in between her sobs and screams and pulled out the knife – with no ease – and dragged the blade all over her body, smearing the blood over the beautiful skin that was soon to be ruined forever.

“Your song is so beautiful, my little bird.” His voice was gravelly and despite his built-in stabilizers, his hands were still trembling faintly as he drew new, harsh line all over her body. Blood poured out and pooled around Nora whose cries steadily got quieter and quieter.

When she was little more than wheezing, and her entire body trembled like a leaf in a harsh autumn wind, DiMA had littered her body in horrid wounds. Some were superficial and barely bled while others gave a proper view into her muscles and tendons. If you could see past the amounts of blood, of course.

“P-please,” she whimpered, and while her voice was weak and quivering, it had a sharp edge to it that took the synth’s breath away.

“What do you wish for?” he asked, his own voice just as quiet and strangled as hers, and took his sweet time running the bloody blade down to her dripping slit again, running the tip carefully up and down her folds.

Nora moaned weakly but didn’t try to thrash. Either that, or she couldn’t. Either way, she stayed perfectly still as DiMA stroked and rubbed with the knife, and as seconds stretched into minutes, her whimpers and moans took on another tone; it was no more out of pain than it was out of pleasure.

“T-that,” she panted, eyelids fluttering and her hands tugging weakly on their restraints.

He kept it up, kept running the knife over her folds and clitoris, loving how Nora twitched and her fluids mixed with the blood on the blade. He loved how much she trusted him; even after knowing he wouldn’t be pleased about her retrieving his memories, she came back. She had to know he would do something to her; she wasn’t stupid.

Well, on some occasions, that could be up for discussion, but as a general rule, there was a bright head on her shoulders.

Her release came over her like a wave crushing against the sandy dunes of a beach. It hit hard and left her quivering on the stretcher, her mouth wide open in a hoarse cry and tears falling freely from her closed eyes. Hands clenched into tight fists once more, and her back arched off the stretcher with the last of her power.

It seemed to last for ages when DiMA just watched - no, admired - her and kept the knife rubbing against her clit.

Then she slumped back against the stretcher, panting and limp and bloody. DiMA had never found her more appealing than in this instant, in this moment when she was so vulnerable. He could kill her right here, right now, and her last feeling, last emotion, would have been pure bliss. He could grant her a peaceful death in an instant.

That was, until she spoke his name. It was nothing more than a breath of air, her voice so faint and fragile. After that, he was once more at her mercy, helpless but to watch his little bird try to stretch its tainted wings.

He could feel his wires short circuit. The fans within him sped up and whirred louder and louder until everything simply went blank.

For a few minutes, Nora was the only one alive in the room. She watched with bated breath as DiMA shut down. His hand dropped the knife and landed by her thigh, his fingers brushing against her thigh, and they were burning hot, almost unpleasantly so.

There was dead silence around her, allowing her to hear her own breathing - shallow, raspy and superficial. Blood rushed in her ears and pumped so quickly through her it made her nauseous.

But she would be lying her ass off if she said she didn’t enjoy it. Loved it, even. This feeling, pumped and alert to every little thing, feeling everything so much stronger. The blood pooling around her, drying on her skin, causing it to itch and grow taught when she attempted to move. It was absolutely perfect.

Then DiMA’s fans were brought back to life. His processors started whirring again, and his head raised, hands moved. He took a greedy, trembling inhale of air before his eyes opened and locked with Nora’s glistening ones.

Not a word was spoken between them. Both of them knew it was unnecessary. But just for good measure, DiMA walked alongside the stretcher to stand beside his human and leaned down to kiss her.

And when she kissed back, with lips softer and smoother than silk, he knew with certainty that she would never forget him.

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I could get DiMA to do these things to me *looks longingly into the distance*  
> Kudos and comments are very very much appreciated <3


End file.
